"Get attention."

"What?"

"Poker isn't all about the cards. Poker's mostly about attention. You got a woman whose legs are like yours, tits are like yours, hair is like yours and ass is like yours, all she's gotta do for me is sit there and half the men at the table won't be concentrating on their cards. They'll be thinking about your legs, tits, hair and ass, how much they want 'em and just what they'd do to get 'em."

"I appreciate the compliment, Ty, but I don't think I'm all that."

"You got a dick?"

I felt my mouth twitch.

Then I answered, "No."

"Trust me."

I really had no choice; it wasn't my money anyway so I decided to do that. Trust him.

But I asked, "So is this always your tactic, bring in some woman that gets attention?"

"I've never had class with a rack and an ass like yours so, no. We need the money so tonight I'm tryin' somethin' new."

There it was again. Another supremely effective Ty Walker compliment.

My fingers pressed deeper into the table.

Then I asked, "Do you lose concentration when a woman you want is in the room?"

"I hope not or tonight we're fucked."

And there it was again. My fingertips slid out and my palm pressed into the table.

That was when he asked, "We gonna go or you wanna stare at me some more?"

I sucked in breath. Then I walked to him. He stood where he was and watched. When I made it to him, I got close, tipped my head way back and put my hand flat on wall of his chest.

"All right, hubby, let's go kick some poker ass."

He stared down at me. Then he shook his head.

Then he muttered, "Christ, you're a goof."

Then he moved to my side, put his hand to my back and propelled me to the door and since his hand was on me, I was concentrating on it so I didn't have a smartass retort to the goof comment.

I just moved with my husband out the door.

I learned a few things quickly after the poker game began. First, if you weren't playing it (which I never had so maybe even if you were, I wouldn't know), poker was mind-numbingly boring. Second, Ty was not as good as he thought he was.

This game was like one of those games you saw in movies. I knew this when we didn't go down to the gambling floors, we went up to the top floor. I also knew this because two men in dark suits were standing outside the double doors at the end of the hall we walked through to get into the game. Further, I knew this because when we entered, every character from a movie was there. The oldish Texan with a Stetson and a big-haired blond in strapless, clingy, cut up to there gold lame dripping off his arm. Two men in ill-fitting but nevertheless expensive suits (in other words, it was time to lay off the carbs and that time was about six months ago) that looked like they could easily be made men in the Mafia. A slender, handsome man in an expensive suit that did fit him well, very well, and I thought there was a good chance he was a secret agent. And a swarthy man chomping a cigar, sporting a beer gut fit for two and probably being on vacation from his oppressive rule of some small, South American country. Lastly, I knew this was like those poker games from the movies because there was a bar, with bartender, and the casino had provided a black vested, white shirt, black bowtie wearing dealer and a swish poker table with all its accoutrement.

The dealer eyed me and Blondie, had a quiet word with Ty and the Texan and then Ty came to me and told me I was relegated to the couch against the back wall.

Then he bent his head, lips to my ear and whispered, "Cross your legs. Often."

Then he went to a chair at the table where big piles of multi-colored chips were sitting.

I sat, the bartender got me a French martini after I ordered it (and I did this because of my surroundings, not that I ever drank one I drank beer it just popped into my head and sounded like something a woman wearing a slinky dress who was relegated to a couch during a testosterone only poker game would drink and I found out it tasted really good).

Then, for over an hour, I sipped my (two) French martinis, crossed and uncrossed my legs frequently but not frequently enough to seem silly (like Blondie was fidgeting at my side, making me wonder if she might have a movement disorder), tried not to fall asleep and watched with increasing alarm (the only thing that kept me from falling asleep) as Ty's piles dwindled.

Twice, he'd reached into his inside suit pocket, thrown bills on the table that were snatched up by the dealer faster than you could blink and new chips were stacked at his place. Twice, those stacks shrunk.

He had two chips in front of him that I was staring at in a vain effort to make them multiply spontaneously and the mound of chips in the middle was about three times larger than any other game.

It was then I felt something slither along my legs, my eyes slid to the left and I noticed the secret agent's head was slightly turned my way, his eyes downcast and I knew they were on my legs.

"Lexie."

I heard Ty's rumbling voice call my name, I jumped and called, "Yeah, honey?"

"Come here," he ordered, his back was to me and he didn't turn around.

I looked to secret agent guy and saw his gaze was now alert and on Ty.

I set my drink on the side table, got up, moved quickly to the poker table and stood at his back right. "You need something, Ty?"

His neck twisted and his head tipped back. "Give me your necklace, baby," he said softly.

My breath started sticking in my throat but his eyes held mine and they were not impassive. They were communicating. I just had no freaking clue what they were saying.

I didn't want to lose my necklace, I liked it but I liked that Ty gave it to me and why.

But he told me to trust him.

I had to trust him.

So I lifted my hands, unclasped the chain and then brought it down, watching it and the pendant pool in Ty's upturned palm.

He instantly tossed it on the pile of chips and I felt my stomach clench. Then, directly after, he tossed in his last two chips.

Then he said to the table, "Thanks, babe."

I stood there not knowing what to do.

Then, for reasons unknown to me, my hands lifted and I unscrewed one earring and set it by his wrist on the table. Then the other. Then I fiddled with the clasp on my bracelet, managed by a small miracle to get it unhooked all on my own and I placed it by the earrings. Then I bent low, leaned in and kissed the hinge of his jaw. Then I straightened, squeezed his shoulder, looked over his head at secret agent guy and aimed a smile at him.

Then I turned and walked back to the couch, ignoring Blondie smiling slyly and superiorly at me.

Five minutes later, Ty won that huge pot. Fifteen minutes later, he won the next one. The one after, he lost. He won the next three.

The night wore on, I ordered another martini and sipped it because dinner was long past and I didn't want it to go to my head and I watched Ty win big.

When it was clear things were breaking up, Ty's pile had to be about five times bigger than when the game started. Men moved, Blondie pushed herself up and shuffled forward, I uncrossed my legs then recrossed them on the other side.

Ty jerked his chin at the dealer while the Texan stood and said in a loud mutter, "Not sure you'll be welcome to sit another game, Walker."

"Don't 'spect so," Ty replied, sounding like he couldn't care less and standing, his side to the table, his neck twisted until his eyes were on me.

I was to go to him.

I went to him.

Goodnight type words were exchanged and I did a scan of the occupants of the room as I walked to Ty. The swarthy man looked mildly annoyed. The Texan looked pissed, then again, his piles had dwindled the most when Ty started winning. The rest simply looked like they were tired and ready to call it a night.

I stopped close to Ty and the minute I did, he took hold of and then lifted my wrist, tagged the bracelet off the table and latched it on. Then he put a hand to my hip, put pressure on and my body moved until my back was to him. The pendant dangled in front of me then disappeared downward.

Then I heard him murmur, "Lift up your hair."

I did as I was told.

He clasped my necklace on, tingles sliding up my scalp and down my spine when his fingers brushed against my skin.

The hand came back to my hip turning me to face him, he again lifted my wrist, twisted it and deposited my earrings in my palm.

"Don't bother puttin' 'em in. We get back to the room, we're goin' straight to bed."

I felt my body go electric again, I licked my lips and nodded.

His eyes cut through the room, he did a few jerks of his chin, I aimed a tired smile around, his hand went to the small of my back and he led me to and out the double doors.

Chapter Five.

Breakfast The next day, I sat baking in the sun on a lounge chair by the pool, sweat mingling with my suntan oil, my eyes directed to the Kindle in my hand but my mind was not on my Kindle.

It was on Ty.

Last night he won four hundred and fifty thousand dollars playing poker.

Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

This boggled the mind. I didn't know what to do with this. It was so huge, it was impossible to process.

But that knowledge wouldn't be the only thing that boggled my mind last night.

Playing it cool, I hadn't asked him until we got to the room how much he won but I did it the minute the latch clicked on the door. He answered as he strode into the room, shrugging off his jacket.

I stood in the little hall, stunned motionless.

Then I'd walked into the bedroom to see him draping his jacket on the chair by the window.

"Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" I asked.

"Yep," he answered.

"Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" I repeated.

Ty didn't respond that time.

"I can't believe you won that kind of money," I stated because I couldn't.

"Don't get excited," he replied, taking out his cufflinks and acting like he wasn't excited but then again, he rarely acted like he was anything.

But still.

Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars was exciting and should be, even for Ty.

Therefore I stared at him and I did this for awhile.

Then I asked incredulously, "How can I not be excited? That's a lot of money. And you won that money. In Vegas. In a poker game that came right out of a movie. And that... is... fucking... cool!"

His eyes came to mine. "It wasn't cool. It was easy. They were amateurs. The only one who knew what he was doin' is Navarro and Navarro was more interested in your legs than the game."

This surprised me, it surprised me but it didn't take the wind out of my sails though it did make me curious.

"They were amateurs?" I asked.

"Think they're big shots, they aren't. Navarro was the only professional sittin' that table."

"Which one was Navarro?" I asked but I thought I knew.

"Slim. Black hair. Eyes sliding to the couch about a hundred fuckin' times."

I was right, I knew.

"So amateurs play for those kind of stakes?"

He nodded as he dropped his cufflinks on the desk and said, "The rest of those men got money to burn. Hobby. That's why they let me play them. They don't let just anyone sit a table. My boy that got me in the game told them about me. They knew my history; they thought I was an easy mark. Had money, not much, but enough and they were willin' to take it. I spent an hour losin' and they lost interest in me since they thought they took me, forgot to pay attention. Amateur mistake. Navarro knew what I was doin' the minute I started doin' it and that includes walkin' in the room with you."

This didn't make sense. "If he's a professional, why did he lose his concentration?"